


No Substitute

by irishcookie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Allusions to Reincarnation, Could be considered slightly dubcon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishcookie/pseuds/irishcookie
Summary: He finally wins her over — and takes what has always been his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a drabble started way back during the Darcy Lewis Smut Week. I found it today and in my stir crazy snowed in state starting typing. Before I knew it, it was finished. The prompt was: reincarnation so there is an element of that in this. There may be elements of dubious consent here so I am also warning for that. I hope you enjoy it because I had fun playing in Loki’s head.

He has her pressed against the wall, one hand slowly moving up her side. She shivers and a smile spreads across his face. “You like this,” he tells her, his head dipping low so he can whisper the words directly in her ear. When she moves slightly, pressing her body to his, he knows he has her.

_Finally_. 

Loki takes a moment to relish his hard fought victory. His hand curls around her waist and he nuzzles her hair. _Breathes her in_. He has been waiting so long for this. He is now torn between savoring the moment and rushing to claim her. After all, for weeks she has been shielded from him (‘protected’ as if she needed such a thing). He has not taken kindly to outside meddling. 

After all he has just found her again. 

Loki has known since the moment he laid eyes on Darcy Lewis. It hit him so hard and fast that he had been tempted to pull her into an embrace right then and there. However, he knew by the way his brother had stepped between them that he would have paid dearly for such an action. So instead, he had stilled himself (though already his mind had been working to bring them together). 

For her part, Darcy had regarded him with a twisted mixture of anger and awe. It pained him to see such a contemptuous look on her face but he conceded it was better than fear. He had found himself on the receiving end of many acid tongued attacks but had done nothing more than smile in return ( _she is passionate, she has always been passionate_ ). He had been well aware that Thor and his mousy love were conspiring to ensure that he was never alone with Darcy — so he had conspired back (really now, what chance did they have against the god of trickery?). 

He only needed one chance — one moment to help her _remember_. 

And now he has it. 

He has weaved a web so tight that it will take his brother ages to untangle. There will be no more poorly timed interruptions. No one will swoop in under the guise of rescuing the fair maiden from the evil villain. 

Not that she wants to be rescued in this particular moment. 

Her body is still pressed to his and she regards him with curious eyes. “You’re crazy,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He is not hurt by this assertion. “ — in many respect I suppose I should agree,” he tells her, his hand moving once from where it rests just below her breast to cup the side of her face. Though there is fight in her eyes (she is still Darcy as much as she is _her_ ), her head turns and her cheek presses against his palm. “But in this, I am the most sane of men.” 

Her mouth is slightly agape and he would like very much to cover it with his own. Though his patience is thin, he will wait. He does not want her to slip under his arm and run from the room under some misguided notion that he means to bring her harm (he wishes to do the exact opposite). 

“You can’t honestly believe that I am some…” She struggles for the right way to say it. “…some version of a woman you once had the hots for.” 

Loki presses his lips together for a moment. “It was much more than that,” he tells her his thumb swiping a circle against her skin. “And you believe it too. You have since I first told you. You just have fought against it. In truth, I admire that. You have a fighting spirit — just as she had.” 

Darcy shakes her head, though her pupils are now blown wide open. As much as she wants to protest, he has an effect on her. “I’m _me_ ,” she tells him firmly. “Not some substitute.” 

“I would not want you to be.” He is not lying here. He has no desire to trick her. “You fail to understand how this works, Darcy Lewis. What exists in you is the same rebellious, stubborn nature that existed in her. You are not frightened by anyone, by _anything_ — you would stand between those you care about and an impossible enemy without thinking.” He notices the hitch in her breath and takes it as a good sign. She is so close — she just needs one final push over the edge. “You are far from a substitute. You are unique.” 

Her mouth claims his. 

(he has _won_ ) 

Loki’s arms move around her waist, pulling her impossibly close. His mouth slants to take control of hers. She battles back of course. He has known she would. He wants her to. As long as he is around she will never sacrifice any part of who she is for anyone else (even him). 

Of course he still comes out on top in the end. 

Darcy’s chest rises and falls at a rapid pace; her lips are parted, swollen from their kiss. She is slightly wide eyed and he wonders if she is thinking that _yes she has just kissed him_. He doesn’t give her time to ponder too hard, content to overload her senses. His hands roam over her curves once more, appreciating how she trembles under his touch. Her eyes flutter close and he takes that opportunity to brush his lips over them. Darcy’s fingers curl into his shoulder, pinching his skin in _just the right way_. 

He has to have her now (he can’t wait any longer). 

When he kisses her again, he transmits this need to her. She might not be ready to say it aloud but her actions confirm that she feels the same as him. Her fingers tangle in his hair and her leg comes to rest against his hip. He manages to fit his hand between them, tracing it down over the expanse of her stomach and lower still until he can slip it under the hem of her dress. 

He finds her hot, wet… _ready_. 

There is something slightly accusatory in the way he looks at her but she levels him with a look of her own. He is wise not to say anything, not to call her on it. He is wise instead to let their bodies do all the talking at this point. 

It doesn’t take long to rid themselves of their clothing. He will get a chance to fully appreciate the sight before him later (because this is the _start_ of something not the _culmination_ of it). For now, he pushes her against the wall, one hand hooking under her knee to return it to its resting place against his hip. He easily plunges into her, savoring the way she feels around him. 

Darcy’s reaction is automatic. Her back arches, her head falls back and the sound that comes from her lips is all he needs to hear. He repeats his action, grinning to himself when that sound becomes more pronounced, more demanding. He can feel her hands on his back, nails slightly scouring his skin. She has something in her, something wild and he can’t wait to experience it at its full height. 

Loki buries his head in the crook of her neck. His teeth run along the skin he finds there and she turns her head so her mouth rests next to his ear. In between those delicious sounds are pleas for him to go faster, harder, to touch her _everywhere_. He gives into all those requests, overloading her senses until she comes apart around him. He stills, intent on watching her as it happens. 

She is _absolutely_ beautiful. 

When she has regained some control, she runs her hand over the side of his face, hooking her leg over the small of his back, silent encouragement for him to take his fill. He begins to move again, slow at first — long, careful strokes. She teases him, much the same as he has teased her. He cannot hold back much longer and that practiced control of his slips. When he comes, her name ( _Darcy_ ) is on his lips. 

They stay like that, tangled against the wall, for a moment or two as they come down from their high. 

Then Loki is moving from her (enjoying the way she moans in protest). He knows they should leave here and find somewhere that will allow them the solitude they both crave. He extends his hand. 

She takes it.


End file.
